


End of the night

by dobe_san



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mentions of homophobia, Nostalgia, SemiShiraWeek2020, Tattoos, bartender semi, flower boy shirabu, men cry too, they drink tea together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26912038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dobe_san/pseuds/dobe_san
Summary: As the sadness festered in him, Semi didn’t realise how long he had been standing there, the hot tears streaming down his face mixing with the rainwater dripping down his hair.Suddenly, a bell rang near the door, just like the wind chime above his grandmother’s porch, and a soft voice asked,“Are you okay?”It’s been five months since Semi has left his hometown and he is starting to feel terribly home sick. Then, late one night amidst the pouring rain, alone in a city far away, he stumbles upon a flower shop that gifts him the familiar scents of home, and possibly the beginnings of something new.--Day 4 of #SemiShiraWeek2020
Relationships: Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou
Kudos: 48
Collections: Semishira Week 2020





	End of the night

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt(s): flowershop au, late nights/early mornings, snow/rain
> 
> Accompanying tracks: (70% surround sound aesthetics, 30% lyrics)  
> [Fly Free – The Charm Park](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wiKulW3VpLc)  
> [Secret Garden – Oh My Girl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QIN5_tJRiyY)  
> [End of The Night – Punch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1PAEqGoPSMc)
> 
> In this fic, I made Semi’s hometown somewhere in Hokkaido. I recall from my trip there that the flowers and greenery are lovely, and I do think that Semi would miss them if he ever moved away from the nature he grew up with.
> 
> Oh I also made up an extra sister and a grandma for him. Haha. That, and the fact that whichever city he now lived in (perhaps Kyoto or Osaka or even somewhere further south) is a looooooooong and expensive ride home...just to add to the pain. Anyway, just imagine, okay?

“Leaving so soon?” Terushima slurred, whiskey sloshing around in the glass he was holding.

It was already four on a Friday morning, and Semi was now sporting a massive headache. The overpowering scent of perfume, alcohol and cigarettes had flooded his senses ever since he started his bar-tending shift earlier at eight pm; he had been here for far too long.

“Yeah, I’m beat.”

“Ho-kay.” The blond said, before turning back to Matsukawa. “You’re staying, right?”

Semi didn’t linger long enough to find out his colleague’s answer. He went to the back room to grab his stuff and stepped back out into the darkness of the bar.

“Bye Semi!” Terushima yelled as he poured another drink for Matsukawa, who gave Semi a salute. Guess the guy was staying after all. It wasn’t unexpected; sometimes they’d stay till five in the morning after a long night of work, relishing in the high of drinks and comparing the tips they got.

But not tonight.

With a breath of resolution, Semi pulled at the collar of his leather jacket. He waved to his fellow bar-tenders at the counter, and swung the heavy door open.

The chilly spring air hit his face, almost slapping the headache out of him. He inhaled sharply for some much-needed fresh air. If the crisp coolness didn’t wake him up, the hint of impending rain sure did. It reminded him of the thirst-quenching spring water on the mountains behind his family home in Hokkaido. When was the last time he had been up there for a drink?

Semi couldn’t remember.

He brisk-walked toward his apartment, a good twenty minutes by foot if he was quick. It was fine walking in this weather, as long as it didn’t rain, but he sure was not looking forward to the walk in summer. That is, if he was still working at the bar by then.

With a heavy sigh, he gripped the strap of his bag and looked up into the night sky, storm clouds gathering. Why did he even move here, again?

 _To find my own way in life._ His own voice supplied unhelpfully. _Right._

He could almost hear Yamagata cackling at him from the comfort of his job at his family’s convenient store. His childhood friend had naturally chosen to stay in their old Sapporo neighbourhood to continue the business, leaving Semi a long ten or eleven hours away in a city still pretty much unknown.

Semi let out a self-depreciating laugh of his own. Five months in, and he had to admit that he was quite homesick.

He missed the countryside, the green, the flowers, the birds chirping early in the morning. The scent of spring must be strong on the hills where he used to play. In the city, there were barely any flora or fauna. Sure, there were some _sakura_ viewing spots, but the flowers weren’t slated to bloom till end March. It was still way too early in the month.

And, Semi thought mournfully, the view would still be nothing compared to the wild flowers blooming on the grassy hills back home.

With every footstep, Semi let the memories flood his mind. It wasn’t like there was anything much holding him back at home; most of his other friends went all over the country after high school. His strict parents were old and retired, enjoying their lives playing with the children of his eldest sister. He had never been particularly close to her, with a ten-year age gap between them.

Semi guessed he took after his second sister after all. She was now living abroad in the States. Maybe he should give her a ring one of these days and ask how she did it.

Semi did miss his grandmother, though. She was his pillar growing up. A strong, kind woman, she was the first person whom he had told of his plans to leave, when things had gotten a little tense with his parents at home after he came out of the closet. 

“ _Go, Eita. The world is huge. I hope you find something that makes you happy.”_

Leaving her had been the toughest part of it all. He hoped that she had received the tangerines he sent back over New Years.

Semi really should be calling home more often.

Suddenly, the dark sky lit up and thunder clapped. He cursed out loud and started jogging, just as raindrops started falling. There was no bus stop for shelter within the next five-minute radius, and he let out another curse.

Soon, the downpour got too heavy, the metallic scent of rain and side alley dumpsters merging into one unpleasant mix of wet rags and dirt.

Drenched, Semi ran as quickly as he could. He turned around corners and sprinted aimlessly till he reached the only shop with an extended awning. Interestingly, it was also the only shop in the area that was lit up like a beacon in the dark night.

Warmth illuminated the interior and ignited Semi’s curiosity. Pushing his soaked fringe out of his eyes, he looked up and saw the shop name printed in cursive font.

_The Secret Garden._

How was it that he had never noticed this shop before, he wondered as he walked towards the window. Through the glass panes, he peeked in.

The first thought Semi had was _green_. There were plants everywhere. Sure, there were some small wooden tables and chairs on the right, and a large counter with a few traditional tea sets on the left. But every other space in between was filled with plants and flowers of different variety.

Now that he was standing this close to the entrance, Semi could pick up the different scents: there was an earthy scent of tea, the sugar of wagashi sweets, then, among those, the fragrance of flowers and fresh soil.

It smelled like the backyard of his grandmother’s place. The tea she used to brew, the desserts she serves after meals. It smelled like _home_.

A strong wave of nostalgia suddenly crashed on the shores of Semi’s chest. Later in hindsight, he would blame his night shift and terrible sleep, but for now, his breath left his mouth in pants, vision clouded by tears.

As the sadness festered in him, Semi didn’t realise how long he had been standing there, the hot tears streaming down his face mixing with the rainwater dripping down his hair.

Suddenly, a bell rang near the door, just like the wind chime above his grandmother’s porch, and a soft voice asked,

“Are you okay?”

Semi looked over, but through his blurry vision could only make out a fuzzy figure with brown hair. The other person was standing in the warm light that shone through the opened entrance, a hand on the door knob, waiting.

Semi thought how ridiculous he must look, standing here and crying like that.

Nodding, Semi inhaled sharply again to recollect himself. His blocked nose cleared slightly, letting him smell a tinge of vanilla amidst the familiar scent of home. He wiped his face hastily with the back of his hand and regretted when he was getting tears, rain and snot everywhere. But in the next moment, he was given a towel.

“Here,” the soft voice said.

Semi grabbed the fluffy towel with a soft thank you and put it on his face like a shield. It smelled like vanilla. He made a hasty attempt to wipe away the remnants of his breakdown, and hid behind the towel with only his eyes showing.

What he saw, now that his vision was clear, surprised him: a shorter boy around his age, maybe younger, with bangs slanted like a stem in the wind. He was wearing a green apron, tiny indoor slippers, and what looked like pajamas. He was also staring at Semi with a cute frown on his face, like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of him.

“Um, if you’re done, you can come in and wait for the storm to pass,” said the boy, who pointed at the many pairs of indoor slippers on the rack before turning around to head in.

After a moment of stupor, Semi made a decent effort to wipe down his clothes and gear as best as he could with the towel. He removed his boots and placed them neatly next to a pair of brown loafers. Then, he slipped on a pair of slippers and walked in.

Now that he was inside, he was assaulted with the scents that had overwhelmed him earlier.

But since he had left the howling winds and heavy rain outside and was now in the safe sanctuary of what appeared to be a flower shop, Semi felt better able to handle his emotions. He looked around carefully.

There were neat rows of pots on hanging shelves all around the room. He recognised them as housing different varieties of fittonia plants, only because his grandma had some of those back home. Over in the corner, there was a crowd of plants with cute and tiny disc-like leaves, and next to those, two neatly trimmed bonsai in large pots.

As he walked, Semi carefully avoided the other pots on the floor, making his way past the metal rack with pails and plastic vases of fresh flowers. Most of which he didn’t know the names of, except the common roses and daisies and some others.

When he reached the sitting area to the side, Semi draped the towel on the back of a wooden chair and sat down quietly. Then, he looked across to the other half of the store, back at the boy who flitted between brewing some tea and arranging a bouquet of flowers on the large granite counter. The bouquet he was working on had some white roses, some other blue flowers, and baby breaths, neatly arranged into a brown paper wrap, and then tight securely with a dark blue ribbon.

Semi watched the boy deftly snip a few more flowers and put together another bouquet with the same arrangement, this time, a tinier assemble.

_For a wedding, maybe?_

“A last-minute order,” the boy said aloud, as though hearing Semi’s thoughts. “The bride changed her mind, _again_.”

Semi could hear the disdain in his voice. His guess was confirmed when flower boy pointed to the fridge full of ready-made bouquets, pinks and yellows, and held up the blue one in his hand in comparison and shook his head. Semi bit back his laugh. He knew how the other felt; his eldest sister had been one of the pickiest brides ever.

Semi told him as such, and relished in the tiny chuckle he received in return.

“She called me at four in the morning to change the flowers, saying how her horoscope indicated that blue was better for romance,” flower boy complained, “She should just be sleeping for her big day later.”

“Yeah, my sister didn’t sleep the entire night. I guess that’s why their make-up is usually so thick. To cover up the dark circles, I suppose.”

The boy snorted this time, glancing up at Semi with smiles in his eyes.

(Semi couldn’t help the butterflies in his tummy.)

Then, flower boy looked back down at his own handiwork, resuming the familiar motions of tying a silk ribbon around the neat bunch of flowers. For a good while, Semi watched him with quiet interest.

After two more tiny bouquets and while starting on another, the boy eventually spoke. 

“I made you some tea,” he said to Semi without looking, “You look like you needed it.”

“O-Oh, thank you,” said Semi as he stood up gingerly, pulling the uncomfortable wet pants from his legs. He meandered through the plants and flowers and found the brewing tea set on the edge of the counter. Carefully, he lifted the lid to peek inside. A woody aroma rose with the steam.

It’s oolong.

He replaced the lid and looked over to the other boy.

“Would you like a cup too…um…”

The boy looked away from his flowers and afforded Semi a quick glance.

“Shirabu. And sure, thanks,” he said. 

Nodding, Semi, too, introduced himself, before he started pouring some tea into one cup. After a slight tip, though, he quickly switched to pouring again only a little in another cup, alternating tiny pours between the two until both cups were almost full. Then, he picked one up, took a whiff, and finally had a sip.

It was good, Semi thought. Too familiar. The sense of nostalgia from earlier was about to rise again, and Semi swallowed hard to keep it down.

“This is some decent oolong, Shirabu-san,” he said instead, thankful that his voice didn’t shake.

Shirabu looked vaguely impressed.

“I saw your pour earlier. You know your tea.”

Semi scratched the back of his neck, a little shy at the attention.

“My grandmother loves oolong too. She made me learn the steps.”

“You should be proud. It’s a lost art.”

“I am. All the scents here just reminded me of her, I guess.”

Shirabu hummed but didn’t reply. If he made any connection between this and Semi’s earlier breakdown, he didn’t say anything, and kept busy with his flower work.

“How many bouquets do you need?” Semi decided to ask. 

“One for the bride, five for her bridesmaids.”

Semi counted; Shirabu was already on his last bouquet.

“You’re fast.” He commented as he continued sipping his tea.

“Got to be. I intend to go back to bed, after all.” Shirabu pointed to a flight of stairs hidden behind half curtains. He must live upstairs. “The bridesmaid is only coming at seven thirty.”

Semi glanced at his watch. It was almost five now. And outside, the sudden storm had abated into a drizzle. It was his sign to leave.

Not wanting to waste some good tea, though, he poured himself another cup and downed it in one gulp. His grandmother would smack him if he did that in front of her.

Once Shirabu placed the new bouquets in the fridge, Semi handed the untouched tea over to him. Their fingers brushed, and Semi quickly retracted his hand.

He let Shirabu take a few sips of his tea, before asking, “Sorry for the trouble, Shirabu-san, but could I borrow an umbrella?”

Shirabu nodded. The boy took another sip as he retreated up the stairs. He came back down a minute later with dry clothes in both hands, but no umbrella or teacup.

“Change first,” he told Semi, “You’ll catch a cold this early.” 

Slightly surprised but also grateful, Semi thanked Shirabu as he took the clothes, and followed the boy to the bathroom behind.

As he shut the door and removed his wet garments, Semi was a little worried about the fit of the new clothes; Shirabu had narrow shoulders, and Semi was almost half a head taller.

But his worries were for naught as he changed into dry and comfortable trackpants and a shirt that fit him well. They didn’t smell exactly like the whiff of vanilla that he had caught earlier when he was standing near Shirabu.

“My tall friend leaves his clothes here sometimes.” Shirabu explained later in the main room, “Mine wouldn’t fit you.”

 _Ah_ , Semi nodded. Truth be told, he was a little disappointed, but he shook those weird thoughts away. He attributed them to the roller-coaster ride of emotions in the last hour or so, mind and body yearning to be in the presence of a familiar comfort.

Which this place was slowly becoming, tea, flowers and even people included.

“I’ll make a move,” Semi finally said, albeit reluctantly, as he stuffed his wet clothes into the eco bag Shirabu gave him, and shoved everything into his backpack. “Thank you very much for your hospitality, Shirabu-san.”

Shirabu nodded and finally handed him an umbrella that was near the door.

“I’ll walk you out.”

Once outside, Semi got down to lace up his boots. Then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed a sliver of purple on Shirabu’s ankle, on the outer side closest to him.

Semi studied the inked space beneath the round ankle bone, and noticed that it was a tiny tattoo of two lily flowers. The white and purple petals spread out evenly, thin stems crossing in midair as though they were dancing in the wind.

He must have stared for a second too long, because Shirabu hitched his pants leg up and tilted his tattooed ankle forward, as though showing it off for Semi to take a closer look.

“I have more hidden in places, in case you were wondering.” 

Semi _was_ wondering. But he sure as hell wasn't going to tell Shirabu that. He looked back up at Shirabu, who wore a playful smirk on his lips as he continued, “If you’re interested, next time I’ll let you try finding the others yourself.” 

Semi spluttered.

"W-What?”

Shirabu let out a chuckle, and Semi was sure his own cheeks were flushed. He could feel it.

“I'm joking, Semi-san. Just bring the clothes back and stay long enough for more tea," said Shirabu, eyes bright with mirth, "I’ll brew something else next time, something that’ll make you happy.” 

_So you won’t be crying here anymore._

At that kind offer, Semi couldn’t help but return a smile of his own. He stood upright, fingers tight on the umbrella as he nodded,

“Yes, of course, Shirabu-san, I’d like that very much.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have lived abroad before, and I know how it feels to be homesick and alone. If you had experienced/are experiencing the same, I hope you feel a glimmer of hope along with Semi who had also found something new at end of his dark night.
> 
> PS: Where do you think Shirabu has his other tattoos? ;)


End file.
